ankle spats


Words: 0.7k | Genre: Fluff | Pairing: Jungkook x O/C

Summary: Jungkook and O/C go to a restaurant, but he ends up eating bad lobster and pukes once he gets home.

Originally posted by jkguks

a/n: In my defense, i love to picture moments between Kook and Arya? Also, they’re like my fav couple rn. I was supposed to sleep but my hand slipped and i typed this at 2 am. Enjoy~

Each piece must be seen as an individual. Unless otherwise stated.

Short Fic #03. “Lobster”

Arya’s hands slowly rubbed in circular motions against Jungkook’s back as he was leaning in the toilet, throwing up the dinner he had that evening. It was smelling like wine and gastric fluid in the bathroom, making Arya feel sick to her stomach, but it was also bothering for her to watch Jungkook in such a painfull state. 

 Jungkook stoped puking for a moment and sat back closing the toilet set, reaching to flush the mess in the toilet then leaned back, resting on Arya’s chest. 

“I swear to god I’m never eating that again.“He said barely in a whisper. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Arya asked concerned. He has been puking for almost 5 minutes now, on and off, never leaving the bathroom. 

“I always feel better whenever you’re around.” He weakly smiled and she blushed, like always. 

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Injured (Trolls Fanfic)

Guess who’s back? And I’m bringing two drabbles. Here’s the first one.


Summary: Poppy shouldn’t have jumped from so high.

Branch kicked the door open before Satin, Chenille or DJ Suki could open it or him.

“Branch,” Poppy started to say, but he shushed her.

“No,” he interrupted. “Don’t talk.” He was annoyed, which made her feel like a child being scolded.

“Branch, I’m fine,” Poppy whined, crossing her arms and feeling strangely small being carried by his strong arms princess style. She realized she didn’t hate the sensation. “I can walk” she insisted when all the retinue followed inside.

“You have a sprained ankle,” he spat, and despite his harsh words, he put her gently on the bed. “You won’t be walking until you get that treated.”

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“But the ad stated that you kill demons and-”

Bucky interrupted.  “I track things.  Paranormal sometimes.  People usually.  Not demons, though, ‘cause they ain’t real.”

“They are real,” Tony said, his voice coming out in a rush.  He bunched the fabric of his hospital gown in his fist, and swallowed.  “They’re very real in my head.  In my mind.  Just as alive as you or I, and I can see–” He trailed off, his eyes fixed on something over Bucky’s left shoulder. 

Bucky willed himself not to look, straightening his shoulders and steeling himself.  He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as Tony’s skin broke out in goosebumps.  The color slowly seeped from Tony’s face, and Bucky reflexively went for the knife strapped to his ankle.

 “Don’t.  Move.” Tony spat through gritted teeth.  His brow was slick and his eyes were shining as he slowly angled his head to look at Bucky.  “It knows you’re here and it doesn’t like it.”

An 80′s Winteriron Horror AU

The playlist can be found here

Accidents Happen || Aquata & Gaston

Gaston was struggling to get back into the swing of things. He was late to everything even the first practice for the returning quidditch players. He held his bat under his arm as he fastened on of the buttons with one hand and tried hold his broom at the same time. He sped toward the pitch and felt his laces slap at his ankle, “Merde!” He spat out quickly as he dropped everything to tie his shoe. To say Gaston wasn’t having a good day would be an understatement.

“I’m here,” he huffed as he enter the pitch. “What’d I miss?” He tossed his bat into the air and caught it as he flew up on his broom.


Raphril Fanfiction: Strain

Universe: 2k14
Ship: Raphril
Words: 2613
Rating: PG-13. 
Warnings: Swears and some sexual references, a little more overt than in the others
Summary: April’s triumph at finding the lair by herself was short-lived. Not only did she fall flat on her ass, Raphael was there to witness it. But could she really claim all that light-headedness was just down to the fall?

Inspired by this prompt:

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Lean on me

My first attempt at writing some AsaNoya, and man, are they fun to write 

Fic Title: Lean on me

Summary: Noya gets injured, which finally gives Asahi an excuse to take care of him instead of the other way around. However, with Noya constantly leaning on him for support and touching him (always freaking touching him), Asahi is having a harder and harder time keeping his less-than-subtle feelings for Noya in check, and there’s growing evidence that he doesn’t need to anyways.(In which Noya sprains his ankle, Asahi sucks at flirting, and Suga is probably not the best person to ask for romantic advice.)

You can read on AO3, or below!

The court fell silent as Nishinoya slammed into the ground: there wasn’t a soul in the gym who hadn’t heard that heavy thud and dull crack.

Noya was on the ground and he wasn’t moving, and no one seemed to know what to do because it was Noya : the unstoppable, guardian god whonever fell. There was a heavy pause, and then movement stirred as Noya shifted and tried to stand. All bodies on the court breathed a sigh of relief and began to shift back to their normal mode of operation – Noya was functioning, he was getting back on his feet, and everything was going to be fine. Everybody except for Asahi that is, who was struck uncharacteristic uncertainty on Noya’s face as he hauled himself to his feet. He hadn’t seen Noya look anything less than perfectly confident since The Incident, and all of his instincts screamed at him to fix it. He couldn’t let Noya get hurt again.

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Skip the romance. Now. Put all of that on hold: the vases, the windowsills, the legs on legs on floor. They do not belong on this side of the story. From this side, all you see is a vast lawn. A pasture, or a field, or an unkempt garden. This is what happened:

I wrote a sentence on my ankle, and then spat on my thumb and smudged it out of existence. Momentarily, I had revealed the truth, but then the expanse of my skin gulped it down, and all I was left with was a patch of blue. There is no name for that. 

He only saw the remnants of ink on my foot; he did not question them; he did not know. I tried to find a noun for that too, but failed.

Do you see now? This lawn? There are no wild daises in sight, from where I am, which means no need for the vase, which means no need for the windowsill. 

The grass swallows all limbs: no need for legs on legs. Forget all of that. (The truth: this story is a wasteland, regardless of where you happen to stand.)